


Anti-kink: Shower sex

by ash_carpenter



Series: Anti-kink [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:49:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1381375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ash_carpenter/pseuds/ash_carpenter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Next instalment in my anti-kink series (archived <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=ash_carpenter&keyword=Anti-kink&filter=all">here</a> on LJ).</p>
<p>Sam and Dean have sex in the shower. It goes just about as well as you'd expect, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anti-kink: Shower sex

** Shower Sex **

 

Dean tried to blink shampoo out of his eyes and squint around the shower curtain when he heard the bathroom door open, although it couldn’t be anyone other than Sam and his pea-sized bladder. Giving up when the sting simply intensified, he put his head back under the spray to try to wash his face off.

Man, it pissed him off when Sam peed while he was in the shower; the little bastard always made sure to flush so that Dean got a blast of cold water.

He was a little surprised when he got a blast of cold air instead as the shower curtain was twitched to the side, allowing billowing steam out and the frigid Montana air in. There was no heater in the bathroom.

Emitting an unmanly yelp, Dean cleared his throat and then demanded gruffly, “What are you doing?”

Sam grinned at him. “Perving on you in the shower.”

“Oh.” Dean was a little taken aback, but he couldn’t quite prevent a pleased, flirty (and possibly even slightly sappy, not that anyone could prove it) smile from crossing his face. “Well...How’s that working out for you?”

“Pretty good so far. Got a little problem though.”

“Oh yeah? Doesn’t look so little to me...” Dean purred, eyes fixing lasciviously on Sam’s crotch. His own dick was rapidly taking an interest in the proceedings, although his balls weren’t too pleased about the cool draft trying to shrink them down to walnut size.

Chuckling, Sam said, “Well that’s the problem. See, all this perving on your fine ass has gotten me all worked up. I don’t think just looking’s gonna cut it...”

“Is that right? Well give me two minutes and I’ll lay this fine ass out on the bed for you.”

Sam shook his head. “Can’t wait that long.”

“What the hell are you doing?” demanded Dean with a laugh in his voice as Sam reached into the shower and started running his hands possessively over his brother’s slippery skin.

“Molesting you,” replied Sam huskily, groping Dean’s ass.

Dean turned in Sam’s arms and plastered himself against him, suddenly too horny to even function.

“Dude!” protested Sam, trying to unpeel himself from his soggy brother. “Just let me take my clothes off!”

“Hurry up!” Dean started tugging unhelpfully at Sam’s tee-shirt, achieving nothing more than stretching it, and sending waves of water spilling out onto the bathroom floor and all over Sam’s jeans.

“Dean, stop helping!” Sam gave him a little shove backwards, quickly reaching out to steady him when he started to slip over, wobbling precariously and giving a high-pitched squawk while his heels squeaked along the enamel.

“Are you trying to kill me?!”

“Sorry,” muttered Sam, sounding a little to the left of properly remorseful, in Dean’s humble opinion.

“What the hell are you doing?” demanded Dean a few seconds later, watching with bemusement as Sam hopped haphazardly around the bathroom, cursing and flailing one of his hands.

“Fuckin’ jeans won’t come off,” he grunted, wondering how denim plus water had managed to equal superglue. He finally wrestled one leg off, inside-out, but only had a split second to celebrate his triumph before the linoleum was flying toward his face at an alarming rate.

“GAH!”

“Sam? What the fuck are you doing on the floor? Get up and get in here.”

Glaring at Dean from the puddle in which he was sitting, yanking his jeans completely free with a low growl, Sam tried to quench his irritation by recalling that he was about to fuck his brother’s sweet ass. Which, granted, wasn’t really a _normal_ thing for a person to use to make themselves feel better, but Sam had always had a sketchy relationship with normal and, besides, most people didn’t have _Dean_ for a brother, or else he suspected that incest would be somewhat more rampant.

Not that he really knew how rampant incest was. But it probably wasn’t your average person’s favourite pastime. There were probably more grown men running around in diapers than fucking their sib–

“Sam?”

“Huh?”

“Are you gonna sit naked on the floor all day? What are you thinking about?”

“Uh...” Incest and diapers? Yeah, no. “Nothing.”

“Okay, nutjob. Wanna maybe get this show on the road?”

Nodding, Sam scrambled to his feet and stumbled gracelessly into the shower to join Dean, who immediately grabbed for his cock without any kind of preamble. “C’mere...”

“Dude, it’s not a handle!” protested Sam, but he went willingly enough, pressing himself against Dean’s slippy-slidey body and moaning softly. Shivering slightly as the stray droplets of water cooled on his skin, he tried to move Dean back a few steps so that he could get under the spray.

It rapidly became clear that Dean didn’t want to share the water. In fact, after a minute or two of them shoving each other around and sidestepping and trying to turn in a circle as they made out, it became pretty obvious that they were both trying to hog the warm spray.

“Will you stand still?!”

“Will you move across so that I can get some water too?!”

“It’s not my fault you’re so huge that the water doesn’t reach all the way around you!”

“What? That doesn’t even make any sense! Look, just...No, wait...Move left, damn it!”

Finally, with a long-suffering sigh, Dean edged sideways just enough to let a few droplets of the water splatter his brother at irregular intervals. His left ass cheek was cold, and Sam should really be more concerned about how sexy he was than minor issues such as sharing, but whatever. He was a totally awesome brother.

“Thanks,” drawled Sam sarcastically. However, it was hard to be pissy for too long, especially with Dean’s hard dick poking at his lower stomach and acres of beautiful, slick skin beneath his hands. Before long, he was humping urgently against Dean and, without warning, he abruptly backed him up against the tiles.

“Hey!” hissed Dean, arching away from the wall.

“What?”

“That’s frickin’ cold, man!”

Sam rolled his eyes, because seriously? About four fifths of his body was currently hanging out in the breeze, acting as a windbreak for his whiny big brother.

“Fine,” he huffed, swinging Dean around to the wall that was most directly under the spray and should be warmer.

“OW!” yelped Dean as he was slammed into the shower control, the metal lever digging painfully into his back.

“Fuck!” shouted Sam in roughly the same tone as the spray suddenly turned icy cold, Dean apparently having knocked the settings. They both quickly fumbled around, attempting to restore some heat to the situation. After a minor scalding incident (and, really, Dean was such a baby), they were back on track.

“Okay, wait. I’ll just...lean here, okay?” said Dean, settling himself back exactly where Sam had put him the first time.

“Good thinking,” deadpanned Sam.

Soon they were deeply involved with one another again, kissing hard and working each other’s cocks. Sam reached behind Dean and grabbed an ass cheek, hauling Dean’s legs apart and trying to get his calves wrapped around his own hips.

Dean opened his mouth to protest, gripping Sam’s arm hard for balance, but accidentally swallowed a mouthful of water instead.

“Ew!” grimaced Sam as second-hand shower water was coughed into his face.

“Oh, stop being a pussy. Look, I can’t just hop up on you! We’ll fall over, y’idiot, and I don’t wanna have to explain this in the emergency room.”

Wondering how it could be any worse than explaining how his penis had reacted to passion-fruit, Sam made a face. “Well, what do you wanna do then, genius?”

“I’ll just put my one foot up on the side here and...balance.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fine.”

“Well...I admire your optimism.”

“Will you shut up and put your dick in my ass already?”

Sam shrugged. “If you insist...”

“No, wait! What the hell are you doing?!”

“Uh...What you just told me to. Like, two seconds ago,” replied Sam huffily, trying to hold a struggling Dean still while he lined up his cock, which was still fairly challenging, even with one of Dean’s feet balanced precariously on the rim of the tub and the other wrapped around him.

“Ever hear of lubricant? Jesus.” Sam opened his mouth to reply, but Dean cut him off with, “No, water is not a lubricant. If you don’t believe me then _you_ can get your ass stuffed.”

Sighing irritably, Sam pointed out, “You’re not tall enough to fuck me in the shower.” Before Dean’s increasingly black glare could lead to unfortunate consequences (such as him not putting out), Sam quickly changed the subject. “How about shampoo?”

“Yeah, that could work.” When Sam reached for his own shampoo, Dean batted it out of his hand as if he’d inadvertently picked up a rattlesnake. “Not that!”

“What the hell?!”

“I don’t want my ass smelling like rainbows and baskets of roses, or whatever the fuck is in _your_ shampoo!”

“Not much chance of that...” muttered Sam under his breath.

“Use the manly one.”

Rolling his eyes so hard that he actually disorientated himself for a moment, Sam snatched up Dean’s generic store brand, called simply “Sport, for Men” (presumably because he couldn’t find one actually named “Testosterone and meat, you big masculine stud, you!”). He squeezed the bottle unnecessarily hard, squelching a massive dollop onto his palm and then, without a great deal of finesse, started trying to shovel it inside Dean.

“What, are you trying to give me an enema? Dude!”

Sam’s brain stuttered for a moment – because huh in the what in the ew! – but then he decided that Dean had really had enough prep. Especially since the lubricant was getting somewhat, well, lathery. He just hoped that Dean didn’t notice.

“Uh, Sam...?”

Crap.

“Hmm?” he replied, trying for casual as he quickly manoeuvred himself into position.

“Are there bubbles coming out of my ass?”

“No,” lied Sam as he lined up his cock, trying to keep his balance while supporting half of Dean’s weight and holding him against the tiles as he squirmed, attempting to inspect his foaming butt.

“Are you sure, because – OW!” yelped Dean as Sam shoved his entire dick inside his brother in one long, jerky thrust. As Dean’s knees buckled slightly, he clung to Sam like a limpet to stop himself from crumpling into the tub, and Sam staggered a little with the extra weight. There was a wild, flaily, kinda panicky moment that involved a certain amount of pinwheeling on Sam’s part and a grab for the shower nozzle on Dean’s (because he’d be damned if he wasn’t gonna try to save himself from death by Sasquatch), but then they were suddenly back up against the wall, Dean safely impaled on Sam’s cock.

“You are such a fuckin’ douchebag.”

“What? It all worked out in the end,” asserted Sam with a small grin. He ground his pelvis in a circle, nudging Dean in all the right places, and his brother apparently decided to forgive him, if the ineloquent grunt was anything to go by.

Sam began to tentatively thrust inside Dean, readjusting their position until he was sure – well, fairly sure – that they weren’t about to topple over. Dean had one leg and one arm wrapped around him, his free foot perched on the tub, while the other hand still fastened stubbornly around the shower nozzle. Deciding that they were about as stable as they were going to get, Sam picked up the pace and the force of his strokes, burying his face in Dean’s neck and lapping up droplets of water from the hollow of his throat.

Dean moaned happily, ducking his head down and seeking out Sam’s mouth, latching their lips together and not even complaining when water went up his nose and he couldn’t breathe until he’d snorted it back out over Sam’s face. Sam might have been about to protest, but then Dean’s muscles clamped down on his dick extra hard and he found himself gasping loudly instead. And swallowing a mouthful of Montana water in the process. Which should have been fine, except that apparently the fine mountain water had travelled through the world’s rustiest pipes. Ugh. He turned to the side and hacked, aiming at the drain.

“Well, that’s sexy,” commented Dean.

“You snotted on my face.”

“Touché.”

Since kissing wasn’t going all that well, Sam drew his face back a couple of inches, and he watched Dean’s expression instead. He was biting his plump lower lip, grunting softly, and there were droplets of water beading in his thick lashes. He opened his eyes to see Sam staring, the green washed almost startling bright.

“What?” he asked huskily, body still undulating as he rode out Sam’s thrusts.

“You’re beautiful.”

Dean just looked at him for a moment, face serene, and Sam thought he was going to get away with it until the exaggerated eye-roll and annoyed scowl. “Do you have to be so gay? Jesus, Sam.”

Valiantly not pointing out that Dean was the one getting his ass reamed, Sam treated him to an unimpressed eyebrow raise, possibly accompanied with a small bitch face, and slammed into him extra hard.

A tile fell off the wall and smashed into the tub.

“That’s not good...”

“Probably just had some loose grout,” Sam offered with a facial shrug, resuming his thrusts. Dean was hot and tight and _very_ slippery, and there was no way that a teensy little amount of demolition was going to stop Sam from plowing into him. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

As if waiting for their cue, four more tiles practically jumped off the wall, one of them narrowly avoiding Dean’s head.

“Sam!”

Sam glared up at the stupid tiles, which were clearly trying to rain on his parade. Cock-blocking ceramic bastards.

“What?”

Had he said that out loud? “Uh...nothing.”

“Can we hurry this up a little before I get a concussion?”

“Depends. At least if you have a concussion, you’ll stop whining.”

Before Dean had the chance to try to dismount in a huff, Sam got back to thrusting. Because, really, his brother did have a point, albeit a very small one that he certainly wasn’t going to admit to.

Sam looked down between their bodies, entranced by the water sluicing in rivulets over the planes of Dean’s torso, and finally down to where his dick was pumping in and out of his brother. Wow. All that friction was really getting up quite a lather. Sam pumped harder, half out of a need to get off and half in sick fascination. Dean’s ass looked like one of those exploding bath bombs.

“What the hell are you looking at?” demanded Dean, craning his neck.

Startling guiltily, Sam did the only thing he could think of and grabbed Dean’s cock, which usually served as an efficient distraction, and was halfway through a sigh of relief as his brother reacted favourably, growling Sam’s name and thrusting up into the slick fist.

Unfortunately, the evasive prick-grabbing manoeuvre had left Sam with one less hand supporting Dean’s weight, which had been fine when Dean had been braced against the wall, but was less so when he arched away from it. And, _of course_ , a couple of the clearly evil, kamikaze tiles chose that moment to fling themselves at Dean’s head and shoulders, making him jerk even further forward.

Thus, Sam’s former ‘sigh of relief’ morphed into more of a ‘shriek of pure panic’ as he found himself staggering backward, soles of his feet squeaking against the tub. His brain tricked him into thinking he was saved for a split-second as he felt something cool and slimy at his back, but then he remembered that the tiles were behind Dean and all he had separating him from thin air was the shower curtain.

There was a drawn-out moment as Sam teetered when he and Dean managed to share frightened, shocked looks, and then they were both yelling as the shower rail collapsed and Sam went hurtling backward, vinyl flapping around him like a shroud as he crashed to the floor with a loud bang that woke the neighbours, startled birds out of trees in a sixty foot radius, and jarred another fifteen tiles loose.

“Fuck!”

Sam looked up blearily, trying to breathe through the pain in his body, and only belatedly wondered why his cursing brother hadn’t joined him in his ignominious heap on the floor.

Dean was hanging off the shower nozzle by one arm, looking like a deranged chimp as his feet pedalled at the wet bottom of the tub, trying to find purchase.

“Dean, no,” wheezed Sam. “Let go of the –”

But it was too late. Dean gave a surprised squawk as the nozzle snapped off in his hand and he pitched forward, shins hitting the side of the tub and flipping him over, sending him in a sprawling flight toward his brother.

Sam flailed wildly on the floor, trying to escape his shower curtain prison so that he could roll out of the way, but to no avail. Not only did Dean land on top of him, doing untold damage to his still-hard dick, but the stupid asshat hadn’t let go of the shower nozzle and it smacked him right in the centre of the forehead, leaving a perfect circle of little holes imprinted into the skin.

“Shit! Dude, get off me!” groaned Sam, trying to clutch at both his forehead and his cock, then hissing when his aching back protested the movement. He whined piteously. “Ow.”

Ignoring him, Dean looked over his shoulder at the wrecked shower and cussed a blue streak before turning back to Sam. “They’re gonna make us pay for that. Klutz.”

“Me?” growled Sam, outraged. How dare Dean lay into him! He was injured! Dean had been lucky enough to have a Sam mattress to break his fall! “You’re the one who couldn’t stop writhing around on my dick like a slut.”

Dean’s jaw dropped, his face scandalised. A few responses seemed to flitter through his head, but apparently none of them were appropriate, because instead of replying he smacked Sam on the head with the shower nozzle again.

“OUCH! Stop that, you goddamned jerk!”

“This is so your fault,” asserted Dean. As he tried to scramble free, he heard Sam’s sharp intake of breath and realised that his little brother actually was hurting. Instantly, and despite the fact that he himself had been the cause of at least half the damage, his face softened into concern and he helped him up, patting him down gently.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” pouted Sam, slapping one of Dean’s hands out of the way. “Idiot.”

“Aw, come on, Sammy,” wheedled Dean, as if he was a toddler again. “Tell me where it hurts and I’ll kiss it better.”

Sam smiled despite himself, biting his lips to try to stop it because he didn’t want to give his brother the satisfaction. “My ass,” he snapped.

Dean traced his fingertips down Sam’s abdomen and danced them playfully along his mostly soft dick, making it instantly stand up and take notice again. “You want me to kiss your ass better?”

Sam nodded, swallowing down a gulp. Hey, apology rimming...He could get on board with that.

“Okay, well go lie down and I’ll...” He trailed off, jaw working strangely and his shoulders shaking minutely. He waved his hand instead of finishing his sentence, and Sam narrowed his eyes.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“No,” gasped Dean, quickly clamping his mouth shut against and gnawing on the inside of his cheek.

“You are! You’re laughing!” accused Sam, and Dean finally gave up the pretence, guffawing loudly and gesturing vaguely at Sam’s head. “What? Are you laughing at my _face_?”

That just made Dean snorfle louder, and Sam quickly stepped up to the mirror and wiped steam off it. Oh, perfect. It was going to take _days_ for the dimply circle on his forehead to fade, especially since it now appeared to be turning purple. He turned back to Dean, glaring murderously. “This is not funny.”

Dean clearly disagreed. In fact, he was doubled over, a couple of tears leaking from his eyes, and it seemed that his body just couldn’t take the strain, because he suddenly farted.

And then _Sam_ was abruptly laughing hysterically, because the area around his brother’s ass now had a cloud of bubbles floating serenely around.

“You’re a....You’re a bubble machine!”

Dean whirled around, eyes going wide when he saw what Sam was finding so amusing. He really wanted to be annoyed, but the kid in him thought that it was sort of cool that he could blow a stream of bubbles out of his butt. He tried to fart again.

“Dude, don’t do that,” warned Sam, who knew the signs. He remembered them from being trapped under a blanket with Dean’s ass. “It’s not gonna end pretty.”

“This had better wear off...”

“But think of the uses, Dean! You could be a children’s entertainer...”

Now Dean was trying not to smile. “Yeah, I’m sure the parents will be real impressed when I get my ass out at their kids’ parties.”

Dean managed to let loose another volley of bubbles and they were both collapsing with laughter again.

“How did we go from fucking to watching me fire bubbles out my ass?” asked Dean and Sam’s dwindling chuckles started up again.

“I don’t know, man. But we could always –”

They both jumped as they heard a loud crash in their motel room, Dean brandishing his shower nozzle threateningly. “What was that?” he hissed.

“I don’t know,” replied Sam, trying to find something more menacing than a shampoo bottle to use as a weapon. “Oh, shit, what if someone heard the noise and called the –”

_“This is the police! Come out with your hands up!”_

“Oh, no...”

“Not again.”

Dean suddenly got his ‘bright idea’ face and he turned eagerly to Sam. “Maybe I can impress them with the bubble thing and they’ll let us off with a caution?”

Sam gaped at him incredulously. “Are you suggesting that farting bubbles at the cops is gonna save us from getting arrested for causing hundreds of bucks’ worth of property damage while having incestuous gay sex?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” sighed Dean. “Cops have no sense of humour.”

 

 

THE END


End file.
